Not the Jack Black that you’re thinking of. This is the autobiography of a burglar at the turn of the 20th century who feels like someone ripped out of a cartoon or something. I love stories with unreliable narrators, and this one takes the cake. Full of safe-cracking and train-hopping, it’s one of my favorite books. At one point, he buries a bunch of stolen cash in the ground, and returns years later to retrieve it only to find the stash trapped beneath a house that was built on top of it.