The works of authors like Jodi Picoult and Jennifer Weiner fan the flames of a debate about the value of literature that centers on women. The derisive term "chick lit" evokes an image of women chatting vacantly over champagne and bonbons, perhaps talking about their children, perhaps watching "Oprah."

The reality: Some of what is called "chick lit" addresses real issues that take up real space in women's lives.

The shocker? Those real issues usually involve men. If not catalysts, they provide a contrast by which women examine themselves and their own motives and desires.

Nowhere is this truth more evident than in Elissa Schappell's "Blueprints for Building Better Girls," a fictional exploration of contemporary women at crossroads in their lives. Schappell, who teaches at Queens University of Charlotte, is a Vanity Fair contributor and author of the acclaimed novel "Use Me."

"Blueprints" is a series of interconnected short stories that blend "Reviving Ophelia" with a dash of Judy Blume to address such issues as friendship, sexuality, motherhood, addiction and blood ties.

In the vignette "Monsters of the Deep," Schappell's protagonist defies stereotype: She's an ambitious teenage science whiz who views her boyfriend with the detachment of an anthropologist. She's distracted, ambitious and wry - and too honest to be likable. Yet she's compelling because she looks inward at a time when many young women seek validation from the world around them.

In "A Dog Story," Schappell wrings even deeper tragedy from a young marriage marred by miscarriage. A young wife tries to joke her way through the pain; her hapless husband finds comfort in their new dog.

"Aren't You Dead Yet" contrasts the ambitions of the struggling writer Beth with those of her avant-garde boyfriend. He diminishes her symbolically by endowing her with the nickname "B." Beth moves beyond his romantic notions of cult fame and becomes a commercially successful playwright.

This familiar call and response continues as more characters are sketched out. Charlotte, a college date-rape victim, appears at turns as an obedient granddaughter, a capable wife and mother, an absentee friend. Schappell endows Charlotte with greater depth than many other characters and carries out a dominant theme through narratives tied to her.

"I can do anything for 10 minutes," a college friend of Charlotte's declares more than once. It's a declaration of strength and, in a twisted sense, perseverance. And it's an anthem to Schappell's diverse collective of women, who deal with often unappealing circumstances with subtle humor and righteousness.

Are these women any wiser than their counterparts a generation ago? Schappell strives to build a broader arc to illustrate growth, but as each character founders under pressure, it becomes clear that women of the past 30 years or so are simply trading one set of expectations for another. Things aren't necessarily easier or better. They're just different.

Many critics laud Schappell's work as witty and dryly hilarious. In "Blueprints," the humor is eclipsed by an overwhelming sense of tragedy. The levels of self-awareness fought for by her characters always come at a steep price. Any sense of satisfaction derived from growing with the quirky heroines is bittersweet.

Not many writers write about women without devolving into Lifetime Movie Network cliche, which is probably why so many female authors get unceremoniously slapped with the "chick lit" label.

Schappell is one of few who stand out. Her stories, like her characters, have flaws, but they are incisive and bold. She writes with confidence about characters who dig deep and find confidence within - even if every choice is a double-edged sword. Men don't define these women, but they aren't mere arm candy, either. The portraits are quietly realistic, funny and painful - and as rich as any characters in classical literature, including men.