BRIGHT COLLEGE YEARS

A whimsical, informal account of American university life as it now stands. Matthews (Journalism/New York Univ.; Where the Buffalo Roam, 1992, etc.) structures her book as a journey through the academic year. It runs from summer to summer, beginning with a look at how colleges and universities make their (often undignified) pitch to high-school students and ending with a reunion of old-timers at Princeton. The author's ambition is sweeping. She aims to touch on all kinds of four-year institutions, leaving no part untouched: student drinking, faculty salaries, academic standards, tenure, mathematicians who dress funny, and so forth. The result is an entertaining glimpse of what goes on behind the ivy-covered walls of elite schools (which are likely to conceal faulty plumbing), at state-financed mega-universities (``where you can get a good education, if you want one,'' she writes in evident innocence of her prejudice), and in the hardscrabble world of small and marginal institutions with trailer-park dorms. There is Sinte Gleska, for example, a college in South Dakota that is struggling to carve a niche for itself in the already competitive ``academic marketplace'' of Native American higher education. Matthews gets a good deal of mileage out of anecdotes from student life, with punch lines like ``I told him there was a pizza under the sofa!'' Faculty are good for laughs, too: ``How can she whine for money to the dean when she wears two-hundred-dollar shoes?'' (overheard at a Renaissance scholars' conference). ``After tenure,'' Matthews notes, ``a campus asks only one thing of its professors: keep your brain alive. Many do not, will not, cannot.'' Over the long haul all Matthews's knowing cuteness wears pretty thin. Her touch is informed but light—the result is less journalism than infotainment.