Pair of picture books charming in own way

My favorite trend in picture books takes something classic and gives it a twist.

One of the best examples is Patrick McDonnell’s “The Monster’s Monster.” In it, some little monsters make what they think will be the grumpiest monster, but the Frankenstein-like giant turns out to be a sweetheart who likes doughnuts.

“You Don’t Want a Unicorn!” — by Ame Dyckman and Liz Climo — does the opposite, twisting something classically good into, if not bad, then annoyingly destructive.

The story starts with a unicorn fan making a wish as the narrator tries to stop him.

The boy gets a unicorn with a luxurious mane. The promised trouble soon starts, much of it not worse than things overzealous puppies do. I kept expecting worse.

The book ends deliciously, though.

The language is breezy, with the never-seen narrator directly addressing the boy. Capital letters, dashes and onomatopoeia (not particularly creative but fun) fill the pages.

The illustrations also shine: My 7-year-old daughter looks closely at them, and the boy’s consternation will amuse adults. I appreciate that the character is a boy; in my childhood, this book would have centered on a girl.

But the lack of a logical solution annoys me every time we read the story. If you were to get a unicorn, you would go to the trouble of building a backyard barn before giving up and getting rid of the magical animal.

The total, though nice, stacks up to less than its parts. I prefer the similar “If You Ever Want to Bring an Alligator to School, Don’t!” by Elisa Parsley.

My daughter disagrees. “You Don’t Want a Unicorn!” delights her, enough that I feel OK about the $14.27 price.

Paying a few dollars more for Ross Burach’s “I Am Not a Chair!” satisfies me more. In that story, jungle animals keep sitting on an amusingly chairlike giraffe.

The disgruntled giraffe eventually asserts his giraffeness, scaring off a lion that flees while screaming: “Run for your lives!!! A talking chair!!!” And the giraffe takes a seat with other animals — on a tortoise.

That twist elevates the story.

But my daughter, who doesn’t care much about deeper meanings on how we all mess up, still prefers the unicorn book.