This is an outstanding guidebook. It's the finest guide to Taiwan ever likely to be produced simply because it's hard to see how the job could possibly be done any better.
All guidebooks represent a selection of possible material. I confess to having written two myself, and co-written a third, but I freely admit that The Rough Guide to Taiwan is almost infinitely superior to any of the guidebooks I was responsible for. It's a model of how such things should be done, and Taiwan is blessed indeed to be the recipient of these two authors' meticulous and wide-ranging labors.
The book has many different virtues. It's accurate, detailed, enthusiastic and eloquent. It doesn't pull its punches when it finds somewhere of little interest (Taoyuan, for instance, is "wholly unattractive"). But by and large it finds Taiwan enormously alluring, the people "unquestionably some of the friendliest in Asia," and the whole island the region's "most underrated tourist destination."
First and foremost, the book is marked by its practicality and accuracy, making it supremely useful when out on the ground wondering when the next bus leaves, as well as when looking for the bus-station itself. But second, it's very remarkable for its avoidance of cliche. So much travel writing these days is gush, but this guidebook is extraordinarily fresh in tone. There are, admittedly, a few "soaring" cliffs, "timeless" lifestyles and (horror of horrors) "bustling" cities, but these hackneyed adjectives are almost invariably in the small number of summary pages that precede each section, and were probably penned by the book's editors.
Stephen Keeling and Brice Minnigh actually display a refreshing individuality, reflected in their style. This is particularly the case when it comes to describing Taiwan's mountains - Minnigh's special responsibility, apparently. Thus Yushan (玉山) is "benignly indifferent" to the heavily populated lowlands, and its high-altitude Badongguan (八通關) meadows "dreamlike." Nanhushan (南湖大山) is "gorgeous," the road that skirts Hehuanshan (合歡山) "stupefying," the views along the Caoling Trail (草林古道) "mesmerizing," the ascent of Hsuehshan (雪山) a "grandiose gateway" to what is to come. The Guanwu Recreation Area leading to Dabajianshan (大霸尖山) contains "humbling" old-growth forests, and the Shei-Pa National Park (雪霸國家公園) is "unapologetically rugged." At Lishan's (梨山) Swallow Castle Resort and Hotel "the splendid mountains views from the windows are more than enough to divert your attention form the tacky decor."
It's also presumably Minnigh who wrote the first-rate sections on access to the high mountains, citing "the astounding level of misinformation regarding Class A mountain permits." Early on he leads readers through the application process, and later excels himself by going out of his way to explain how such permits can be obtained within the hour. You get the impression that there's nothing he'd love to achieve more with this book than attract first-timer hikers to these astonishing heights.
The authors are invariably frank, but also just. Hualien's train-station area is "a bit dead," public transport to its harbor "a pain," and the city's night-life "fairly subdued." The nearby Liyu Lake is "only worthwhile if you have lots of time." Kaohsiung, however, has a "palpably laid-back feel," and the authors have some welcome words in praise of Hsinchu's historic Beimen Street (北門街), somewhere I've always liked but which is either wholly neglected or actually damned as being without interest in some competing publications. Lugang's appeal, by contrast, "tends to be exaggerated."
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