Susan Coll’s latest novel, The Literati, might’ve been a darkly cynical takedown of a small, not-well-endowed literary nonprofit. Happily, the story is anything but. Criticism, if it can be found, remains soft and delightfully teasing, while Coll brings on the hijinks and hilarity to great effect. Despite the literary milieu, this isn’t literary fiction. It’s pure comedy.

The hero, 26-year-old Clemi — short for Clementine — is the new programs director at Washington Literary Nonprofit (WLNP) in the nation’s capital. On the Tuesday of her second week, Clemi arrives at the office to discover that her boss, Howard, is inexplicably absent and has left his large, green-eyed, and philosophically named cat, Immanuel, in Clemi’s care:

“The cat stares at Clemi. Clemi stares back at the cat, holding its gaze. If she looks at it long enough, perhaps the creature will explain itself…Perhaps an occasional cat visitation is a regular thing, like Bring Your Kid to Work Day, except with cats.”

The timing of Howard’s disappearance couldn’t have been worse, as WLNP’s annual silent auction and awards gala — the organization’s one and only raison d’être — is just three days away. In the real world, such galas are a Big Deal, as they can raise tens or even hundreds of thousands of dollars for literary magazines, writers conferences, book festivals, and small presses. Coll’s take in The Literati feels especially timely since the National Endowment for the Arts recently terminated or rescinded grants to dozens of cultural institutions.

Back at WLNP, and with no idea what her boss or her predecessor might’ve already arranged vis-à-vis the big event, Clemi is faced with a boatload of problems from multiple characters, including the lovely, vulnerable, and surprisingly entitled author Sveta Attais, and the pampered Immanuel, whose gourmet-cat-food requirements are specific and costly.

Should Clemi upgrade Sveta, the not-yet-announced winner of WLNP’s Chestnut Prize for Prescient Fiction, to first class on her international flight to DC to attend the gala? And what about Sveta’s rumored-to-be-trouble 8-year-old son, Vlad? Should she upgrade his ticket, too? How will WLNP pay these expenses and the gala’s overdue catering bill when someone — possibly Howard himself — has emptied its bank accounts? And why, just days before the soirée, are all of WLNP’s wealthy and prestigious board members unavailable, disinterested, or shockingly ignorant of the organization’s finances? Should Clemi quit her dream job, walk away from the madness, and take the LSAT?

Fast-forward to Friday, the day of the gala. Howard is still AWOL, and chaos — as the saying goes — reigns:

“In Howard’s absence, Clemi is apparently the point person for questions, which is a terrifying thought given that she is the person least likely to have answers. Her party-planning expertise involves knowing how to order pizza. Now she is overseeing a gala for 242 glamorous Washingtonians who are paying, at minimum, $800 per plate. Her lack of expertise should hardly matter, she reassures herself. This event is a well-oiled machine that will run itself. Plus, Skylar will be there, ditto for the [other] interns, and the caterers are managing most of the logistics…So, really, what could go wrong?”

Oh, pretty much everything.

Soon, Clemi is racing through the hotel, wearing a glam outfit that isn’t hers, fretting about a possible hostage situation that (maybe) involves two undercover FBI agents, and babysitting the precocious Vlad, who’s now in possession of both Immanuel and a toy chicken that records adult conversations when it really, really shouldn’t.

And that’s not all. Clemi must also cope with false middle-of-the-night fire alarms, awkwardly overcrowded elevators, an unexpected hotel-room hook-up, a rogue catering cart, and — wait for it — a troupe of clowns that, bizarrely, keeps popping up in her life.

Coll is well positioned to make the most of this story. She’s not only the author of seven novels, but also the events advisor at DC’s Politics and Prose Bookstore and a former president of the PEN/Faulkner Foundation.

Two subplots that concern Clemi’s ex-boyfriend’s relationship with a couple of older literary agents and Clemi’s own conflicts with her neglectful, London-based, lit-agent mother aren’t as fleshed out as they could’ve been. A backstory about WLNP’s Nazi-infested past also falls flat. But these are minor complaints, as there are plenty of laughs to sustain the fun through the novel’s weak spots.

Though Clemi’s ultimate triumph is never truly in doubt, the tension remains high throughout this easy, fast-paced read as she tries to figure out exactly what’s going on and how she can possibly cope with it all. Readers in the mood for warmhearted laughs will love it.

Marcie Geffner is a journalist, writer, and literary critic in Ventura, California.