No one hates the idea of the hipster more than a hipster does. Walter Kirn should have pondered this paradox before penning his memoir "Lost in the Meritocracy: The Undereducation of an Overachiever," in which he scathingly critiques his own loathed class of the Ivy League-educated elite. At once annoying and charming, gloating and self-effacing, this memoir is not likely to blow anyone's mind, except perhaps overachievers in college.

Kirn characterizes himself as the ultimate outsider. He found his way to Princeton from the Midwest by working the system of grades and standardized tests that measure "aptitude," something Kirn distinguishes from worthiness. "Percentile is destiny in America," he declares, before embarking on what sometimes feels like a catalogue of sexual conquests and drugged experiences.

Though Kirn's story is an unusual one (nobody save self-important senators writes a memoir about a textbook life) it is not the most extraordinary tale. Nor is the writing remarkably beautiful, though it is eloquent and witty. His greatest strength is as a storyteller, making for a quick and entertaining read.

He is also skilled at describing the different characters of his life. He groups his classmates at Princeton into several categories: "Those Who'd Been on Sailboats" were the effortless children of the upper classes. "Those Who Strove to Serve Mankind" toiled at the Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Policy to become lawyers and diplomats. "Those Who Pursued Disintegration Fully" did a lot of coke, and "Those Who Never Rose Their Eyes" were the scientists and mathematicians. There is a bit of irony in his characterizing of this last group as an invisible species while he laments his own status as a lonely misfit.

In many ways, Kirn's memoir struggles to decide exactly what it is. It advertises itself as a social critique of this country's academic system, so it is a bit of a surprise to the reader to suddenly encounter Walter the four-year old in the second chapter, suggesting a more introverted life story. Walter's younger years were some of the most interesting of the book, following his earliest encounters with girls, Mormonism and a perverted sixth grade teacher.

Near the end, however, the memoir metamorphoses into a self-help manual and briefly embraces a bewildering imperative voice: "Pause in your knowing to be known … Stop searching, frantic child, and be found." Poetical words, but what the hell do they mean? Should young people to not work so hard? After all, young Walter charmed and tricked his way through college, causing himself plenty of mid-life angst. Finally, Kirn confuses his own college years' climax-getting a scholarship meant for charming assholes like himself-for a climax to the book. It's not. The average non-asshole reader can't be inspired by one man's luck in finding his place.

Perhaps the most annoying thing about this memoir is that it's good. It's enticing. It leaves the reader with an urge to meet the enigmatic bastard. But then again, Walter Kirn considers himself a master bullshitter, so it's hard not to wonder if he's also faking his memoir.

Despite this likely possibility, "Lost in the Meritocracy" is worth reading. Clamoring college students are perhaps the only ones to gain something from this memoir and the least likely to be annoyed by its frequent descents into intellectual fluff or the nagging feeling that Walter Kirn wasted four years at Princeton. But that's the point of his story. It's a warning to anyone who has climbed the rungs of the meritocracy to not confuse "aptitude" with a worthwhile education.