I bought a travel guide once. It ruined me for others.

Despite Venice, Italy, its focus of fascination, the book’s toothless narrative and irksome use of the pronoun we – “as we near the gondola docks…we see beyond the canal” – was enough to dry up every drop of water surrounding that strange and sirenic seaport.

Happily, I discovered there was no need to read these general guidebooks anyway, so long as I chose the right travel partner, i.e. someone who resents assistance, and feels personally fulfilled poring over maps and collecting tourist information. Someone who doesn’t have cat fits whenever their companion becomes limp and glazed over at the words “we’re lost,” or “why don’t you do something for a change?”

If, like me, you are constantly trying to motivate these good-natured “doing” people to exert themselves ever further, niche travel guides may help to renew a flagging wanderlust, and to circumvent potential conflict en route.

At their most promising, books devoted to a singular aspect of the journey – The Lager-Lovers Guide to Ol’ Blighty, for example – proffer the greatest hope of actually being read prior to the trip.

This is important. There is nothing worse than having to wait around for someone while they nut everything out in the middle of nowhere. Usually, they become cross because they failed to acquire this knowledge beforehand. Then they start blaming you. Most annoying.

With this in mind, a selection of recent Canadian-flavoured guides have taken the time to consider one or two areas of interest that are often overlooked by other publications. And, depending on your needs, the results for the most part are well worth having someone look into.

For the budget conscious, Paul Karr’s Hostels Canada is billed as the first-ever attempt at a complete listing and rating of hostels throughout the country.

With over 100 entries aimed mainly at overseas visitors, Karr and his cadre of contributors have assembled a uniquely entertaining and informative look at what the country has to offer – whether it be the back end of a bus, or stoves in the sleeping quarters.

The book’s rating system is a beauty, and takes into account hygiene, hospitality, ecological friendliness, and party potential. Readers are also tipped off as to the hostel’s suitability for business travellers, families, and romance (private rooms, double beds), as well as the general consensus of visitors (ranging in flavour from “all they had was turnips!” to “I’ll be back”).

Karr and company’s refreshing candour avoids easy sarcasm, and instead celebrates the spirit of each location, although they’re quick to note whether a kitchen is clean, or if the bedding is safe.

Intimate details abound, and the descriptions are impressive. For instance, visitors lining up to use the extra-large washroom at Mrs. Swerdlow’s Hostel in Sainte-Anne-des-Lacs, Quebec are encouraged to pass the time admiring their host’s collection of photographs, sculpture, and art from around the world.

Such added extras raise the value of any guidebook, and when it comes to the mixed-bag world of hostelling they can be crucial to one’s sanity.

Keeping kids amused on the move is a quandary for which many parents find themselves ill equipped when faced with an unfamiliar setting.

After B.C.-based author John Symon and his wife uprooted their brood to Montreal, the relocation prompted them to inspect what the city had to offer its young. The result is The Lobster Kids’ Guide to Exploring Montreal, illustrated by Christine Battuz.

Based on three years of “kid-testing,” Symon’s choices of Montreal attractions cover a wide range of activities from museum hopping to apple picking, and all the in-betweens – children’s theatres, play sites, beaches, theme parks, zoos, green spaces, and so on.

Costs, season and times, and instructions on how to get there by car and public transit, or by boat, train, and bicycle (where appropriate), are provided. Symon also makes mention of the city’s child-friendly restaurants, kids’ hair cutters, toy libraries, and record libraries.

The more than 150 suggestions offered are ranked according to enjoyment level, learning opportunities, accessibility, and value for money. One minor quibble, however: Even though the publisher is Lobster Press, the use of lobsters as rating icons will initially strike adult readers as an odd choice.

But parents will certainly value Symon’s foresight when recommending activities like ceramic pottery painting, where he advises putting a limit on how many pieces your halfpint can paint – one two-minute paint job after another can add up.

Another addition to the growing list of bill-and-cooers guides on where to grab, hug, and love around the country is Barbara Braidwood and Richard Cropp’s Romantic Days and Nights in Vancouver. Personally, I liked the people’s choice suggestion listed in the acknowledgments section: Vancouver’s Jericho beach.

However, Braidwood and Cropp are more elevated in their preferences, which expand the love spectrum from storm watching at Vancouver Island’s Tofino (thunderbolts!) to laying bets at the Hastings Park Race Course (love is a gamble after all), even balloon excursions (fervid feet are unlikely to touch the ground anyway).

The authors’ own romance (they met and fell in love in Vancouver) pervades their book, for better or for worse. And, as one might expect, tender asides – “generations of pioneer families are buried together here…you can’t help but imagine what life would have been like for the two of you” – run rampant.

Suggestions on where to eat are a constant feature throughout, and appear to have been thoroughly researched to the extent prices and menu items are highlighted and described.

It’s hard to imagine dewy lovers being able to concentrate long enough to read something of this nature – there are other things they could be doing. But long-time twosomes, sophisticated sweethearts, inflamed tourists, and tired turtledoves in need of a tune-up might consider Cropp and Braidwood’s thoughtful efforts a useful third wheel. Then again, they might just come up with their own ideas.

Although Wayne C. Robinson’s The African-American Travel Guide largely focuses on the U.S., the author also includes two chapters devoted to Nova Scotia and Ontario – both home to large black populations.

The author, a former journalist, has travelled extensively throughout the U.S. and Canada over the past 20 years and, according to a Toronto Star report, Robinson says he has never experienced “one iota” of racism north of the border.

For each city he visits the author provides lists of historic sites, attractions, lodgings, churches, nightclubs, restaurants, publications, and businesses of interest to black travellers. Unfortunately for visitors to Nova Scotia, only one café listing is offered compared with more than 30 entries for restaurants and nightspots in Ontario.

Of particular interest are the historic sites and landmarks sections, which make for fascinating, albeit condensed, reading. Included are references to early black settlements like Nova Scotia’s Birchtown – at one time the largest free African-American settlement in North America.

While Robinson’s guide aims to celebrate and promote Canada’s black culture past and present, it also serves as a raw reminder of black history lost.

Although a reference is included for Nova Scotia’s Africville, a black settlement since the early 1800s, visitors to the site will find a park has since replaced generations of homes, churches, and schools, all of which were destroyed as a result of urban renewal plans by the Halifax government in the late 1960s.