The inherent contradictions of the literary thriller : The Same River Twice

Reading Ted Mooney's intelligent "The Same River Twice" and also thinking about Laura Miller's essay in Salon, which I just saw, on Why We Like Bad Fiction ("we" don't, actually) gets me thinking further about the problems and inherent contradictions of the "literary thriller" genre that Mooney is working in (I've been linked to it, too, qv Exiles). Mooney's novel has so much going on in it: it's initially about a young woman (Odile) who smuggles some Soviet artifacts out of Russia, and then about the art dealer who will sell these artifacts (handmade flags glorifying various Soviet heroes - could these really be sold to museums and collectors as valuable art objects? I think this is just Mooney's big joke on the art industry). Novel is also about art dealers worldwide but esp in Paris, indie filmmakers (Odile's husband, Max, is a Jim Jarmusch-like character), artists and designers working in Paris (Odile poses for a portrait), contraband DVDs (Max's is pirated), assorted marital-family relationships and affairs, and then the Russian underworld and French police that variously intersect as they come after Odile and others for reasons not yet totally clear. And those are only the main plot elements! Add to this that Mooney is a really good writer, very observant and very adept at setting a scene - but I find myself torn. How do you read this book? Emphasis on literary - savor the prose, really get a sense of each scene, read each detail? Emphasis on thriller? Focus on the dialogue, speed it up, follow the plot wherever it leads? This isn't about labeling - I don't care for the term literary thriller particularly - but I do find myself torn as a reader and wish I could appreciate the book on both levels, and I do in a way, but I also feel a bit at sea - it's a real challenge for a writer committed to both great writing and great story-telling, how to unite these two sometimes opposing forces.