By Lisa E. Brown

Globe columnist

For a while now, I've been thinking that chick lit as a genre had met its demise. Uh, chick lit, you ask? Yes, chick lit, I reply. You know, it's not quite a romance novel, not quite "women's fiction."

Here, I'll give you an example: the hilarious, raucous, utterly empathetic "Bridget Jones's Diary," which burst on the scene in the late '90s with its 30-something heroine who drinks too much, smokes too much and swears too much, all while obsessing about her caloric intake and bad-boy boss. It spawned a hot publishing trend, not to mention a sequel, "Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason," and movies based on the aforementioned books. (It also led to a subgenre with the unfortunately alliterative nickname of "lad lit.")

In the ensuing years, some terrific books were published, such as the earlier works of Jane Green and Jennifer Weiner and anything by Melissa Banks. But all we chick lit fans have been given lately are stories about self-consciously quirky 22-year-olds who toil as editorial assistants or run laundromats they've inherited from a wacky relative; in their spare time, they map out their futures while lusting after cute boys they meet at the laundromat (or falafel stand or Starbucks or well, you get the picture) and drinking gallons of cosmos, mojitos or Red Bull cocktails with their best girlfriends.

Well, my faith in the genre was restored when I came across "Pug Hill" by Alison Pace. One look at the cover - Pugs! Lots of fat, adorable pugs on green, green grass, with the New York City skyline in the distance! - and my dog obsession kicked in. Much to my surprise and delight, I found not just a book about pugs and the people who love them, but an honest to goodness chick lit novel.

Meet Hope McNeil, a 32-year-old art restorer for the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She has a successful boyfriend, a loving family, and a dream job that allows her to work up close and personal with the world's most famous paintings, and to study - surreptitiously - her crush-worthy co-worker Elliot.

But things are not entirely right in Hope's world. Workplace competition heats up when it's announced that someone will be promoted. Elliot has a girlfriend. Things aren't working out with Hope and her preppy, hopelessly Republican boyfriend. Her parents are throwing a party to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary, and her mother asks her to make a speech at the event. This simple request brings Hope's greatest fear screaming to the surface, sending her into a class for people afraid of public speaking, where she meets some interesting personalities and embarks on a journey of self-discovery.

Ah, but Hope has unique ways to seek solace amid the chaos: For one thing, she repeatedly watches that Zoloft commercial featuring a sad little egg who experiences better living through chemistry. She also indulges her affection for dogs, and for one breed in particular. "For Holly Golightly, there was always Tiffany's. No matter what was going wrong in her life, she always had Tiffany's. For me, there's always Pug Hill. For as long as I've lived in New York, whenever I've wanted to think, or relax, or be happy, or even sad, my destination of choice has been, without fail, Pug Hill." Pug Hill, the reader learns, is a hill in Central Park where people bring their pugs to play, and Hope finds herself there throughout the book.

Hope's assignments in her public speaking class lead to quite a bit of reflection. Her final project, to give a speech about The One That Got Away, leads her to recall her first love, Benji Brown. (Her memories of mix tapes, penny loafers, Flock of Seagulls haircuts, John Hughes movies, people listening to The Smiths, The Cure, Erasure and Depeche Mode were a welcome reminder of my high-school years.)

She also recollects the many dogs that she's had to say goodbye to in her life. "No matter what anyone says, the thing that I realized is that a dog (of the four-legged variety) can't ever be called "The One That Got Away." Because once you love them, and they love you, they're always with you. They never really go away."

There is a yearning in Hope that lends a quiet melancholy to the book. She yearns for a true love, she yearns for a Pug of her own, she yearns to find the perfect red to match the Rothko painting she's restoring. But she's far from a depressing, whiny character. She's funny, spirited and independent, and she always pulls back from the edge of pathetic.

Don't think "Pug Hill" is all moping and earnest seeking by a lonely heroine. There is quite a bit of humor within its pages. Pace does an excellent job of giving a nod to Bridget Jones, who, like Hope, navigates life among her married friends as a singleton. Pace also addresses with a knowing wink the traditions of chick lit as a genre, as when Hope meets a handsome, charming British man at Pug Hill.

"Pug Hill" is as much about one woman's love for dogs as it is her pursuit of happiness, whatever that may be and however she may find it.

On that note, I'll let you find out for yourself if Hope finds that someone. Do yourself a favor and pick up "Pug Hill." This well-written book does its genre proud with its sweetness, humor, and likable heroine. I, for one, will be continuing my rediscovery of chick lit with another Alison Pace book, "If Andy Warhol Had a Girlfriend," also found in the Joplin Public Library collection.