I read The New Yorker for the short stories. "Experience" was in the January 21, 2013 issue.
"Experience" by Tessa Hadley is undramatic. No one dies or is raped. There are no disturbing revelations (Hana is not a pornstar). There is not even some life lesson shrewdly taught.
It is a story about one of those things, one of those experiences, that shapes one's idea of oneself. Let's get more contrived: it's a tiny shard of the substance identity is made from.
You have to be very skilled to leave all plot devices behind and write engagingly about something unexceptional.
Instead it is about a person reflecting on her life. It is a tiny shard of what makes up identity.
The writing is so smooth and engaging that you can't help but read it.