Happy Ever After

This was the headline on a newspaper interview with Marion Keyes and Curtis Sittenfeld, both of whom spoke about writing romantic comedy. It's what Jane Austen wrote, is it not? Witty novels ending in the happy marriage of the protagonists. How would her novels be categorised in today's book market and by reviewers, given the tendency to label novels either 'literary' or 'commercial'? 
I have always thought this a false distinction. My first novel, 'Singing Bird', was marketed as 'commercial' in the UK, but as 'literary' in the US. I just hope readers thought it was a story well-written and well-told.
Ten years ago, I discussed how novels were labelled and marketed with a book group in Berkshire. I brought with me twenty extracts from novels and asked the group to decide, in the case of each extract, whether it would be regarded as 'literary' or 'commercial'. Additionally, given what I believe is a tendency to categorise novels about relationships written by men as more 'literary' than those written by women, I asked the group to decide, in the case of each extract, if it was written by a man or a woman.
In only the following instance was their decision unanimous. This is the extract: 

Hurley Reed now raises his champagne glass. ‘I would like us to
drink to Margaret and William and their future.’ William Damien
smiles. Everyone toasts the newly married pair.
Hurley Reed, at his end of the table, is now conversing with Helen
Suzy on his right. Helen looks uncomfortable since it is impossible
to avoid hearing her husband’s list.
‘That was last week,’ says Helen.
‘Rape,’ comes her husband’s voice. ‘It felt like rape.’
Helen looks at the plate of salmon mousse that has been softly and
silently placed before her. She takes up her fork.
Hurley takes up his and, while passing the tiny rolls to Ella
Untzinger on his left, continues his conversation with Helen Suzy.
‘Have you ever heard’, he says quietly, ‘of St Uncumber?’
‘Saint Un-what?’
‘A medieval saint,’ he says, ‘to whom people, especially women,
used to pray to relieve them of their spouses. She was a Portuguese
princess who didn’t want to get married. Her father found her a
husband. She prayed to become unattractive and her prayer was
answered. She grew a beard, which naturally put off the suitor. Her
father had her crucified as a result. She’s depicted in King Henry
VII’s chapel in Westminster Abbey, with long hair and a full beard.’
‘I’d better not pray to St Uncumber,’ says Helen, whose husband at
the other end of the table could not be hushed, but was continuing
to lament his robbery; ‘I might’, says Helen, ‘grow a beard.’
‘Not at all likely,’ says Hurley.
‘Then I might try the Uncumber method,’ says Helen.

The group decided it was a. by a woman, and b. literary. Spot on. The extract is from Symposium by Muriel Spark.