The Strangest Children’s Book of All Time

At the urging of a new friend in Italy, I recently sought out and bought the out-of-print children’s classic The Lucky Yak. And when I say “children’s classic,” I really mean “a children’s book for adults who don’t want children.” Let me delve into DaddyTypes territory and explain:

The Lucky Yak, written by Annetta Lawson and illustrated by Caldecott Medal winner Allen Say, is the story of Edward, the son of Tibetan-immigrant yaks who settle first in New Yak, then in more-friendly Yakima. Edward grows up, opens a chain of Yak-in-the-Box restaurants and becomes a financial success.

But he’s not happy. He tries tennis, swimming, painting, violin, macramé and a sporty convertible, but he’s still “depressed and miserable.” So, since this book was published in 1980, he goes to see a psychiatrist, Dr. Huffin N. Puffin, who is a puffin.

Also since this is 1980, the shrink does not simply prescribe Klonopin. Instead, Dr. Puffin tricks Edward into taking care of his two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Muffin Puffin, for a weekend while he goes on vacation. It does not go well:

By lunchtime Friday, Muffin Puffin had taken all the pots and pans out of the cupboards and played drums with them. She had broken a bottle of vinegar and smeared the kitchen floor with butter. She had applesauce in her feathers. She had fallen and skinned her beak and she had made a dent in the refrigerator with her tricycle.

Before long, Edward has called Dr. Puffin back from vacation and told him, “I need to go home. I need to wash the applesauce out of my fur and clean the crayon off my horns. I need a quiet lunch, an afternoon stroll, and a peaceful evening reading a good book. I want my old life, Dr. Puffin. It’s a good life and I’m going to enjoy it.”

And that’s it! The story has wonderfully entertaining moments, and the drawings, reminiscent of Wall Street Journal stipple-portraits, are detailed and funny. But since this is kidlit, I can’t help but wonder what the takeaway for Sasha would be: It’s better to be single and childless than to have to take care of a brat? Ergo, when you, Sasha, misbehave, Mommy and Daddy wish they didn’t have you? What’s the message here?

I’m being facetious, really. It’s actually quite nice to have a book without an overtly hippy-dippy “kids are awesome!” point, and I have a feeling that when Sasha’s old enough for me to read her the book, she’ll love the gleeful way in which Muffin Puffin drives poor Edward to distraction. And it’s those moments—rather than any Aesopian moral—that make for good literature. Even if it is a bit strange.