I sympathise @Rich. I really do. I started out by deciding to go a walk with this writing- a- novel exercise. I was very unwell and it was getting me down, I'd had to stop work and needed a project. I'd had so much from books, I wondered, could I too, approach that shimmering pantheon, and produce a novel length story with a beginning, middle and end. Could I physically do it. Glue backside to seat and produce that word count, 60 K plus, even if I produced a pile of 'meh'. I don't say manure because manure is useful.
I sort of had the story, but the genre. Eh? I didn't know about that yet. I'd always been a reader, but my readings was eclectic, and I'd never considered genre, although doubtless I'd unwittingly absorbed patterns and conventions.
To complicate the picture further, there's also that enduring oddity, General Fiction, as I check the back covers of what's in my bookcases, eg, Life of Pi,The Poisonwood Bible, Masai Dreaming.
General Fiction—that's a term that's slipped between the gaps, in favour of Genre Writing and Literary Fiction. It's difficult to define what qualities General Fiction has, but one of them would be readability, thanks to a lack of snooty pretension. Masai Dreaming is excellent, as are all of the Justin Cartwright novels I've read.