Women in Love is a novel about, well, some women who are in love.
Of course, that's not everything, but it's pretty close. And anyway, if you're reading this you're probably not reading it for the plot. The characters have a complex inner life and think a lot about death and apocalypse and the meaning of life and other happy things. And Lawrence does that annoying modernist thing where he repeats words in the same sentence, like this:
"But he was far off, in another world. Ah, she could shriek with torment, he was so far off, and perfected, in another world."
That isn't a very good example, but you get the idea. It's annoying because it feels like lazy writing.
But I enjoyed it, to an extent: reading the various outbreaks of philosophy was interesting, (although I did end up sighing repeatedly every time a character went into a reverie - after a while it does get boring) and doubtless writing my essay on it will be revealing. But I wouldn't have read it for enjoyment's sake.