Words spoke loudest of all when a three-volume English-Russian dictionary came out in the early 1990s with the note "historical" marked next to "U.S.S.R." The vision of these two entries printed side by side was as much of a shock as the sight of tanks rolling down Moscow's streets had been several years before. But for the generation that has grown up since, the Soviet Union is, indeed, history. Most young people today have little idea how many republics the empire comprised, and need visas to travel to some of them.

But our past keeps coming back to haunt us. One uncanny reminder surfaced recently in the form of a new book by Bibish, a 30-year-old Uzbek woman who sells her wares in a market in Moscow's suburbs. Published by the St. Petersburg house Azbuka, the novel, titled "The Dancer from Khiva, or A Candid Story," has been nominated for the National Bestseller award.

Critics have been apprehensive; some smelled a rat and mused about a hoax. They said that the devices employed by the author were too flashy, too obvious: Start with a couple of brutal scenes (one rape, then another), add some Oriental flavor, complain about the hardships of cotton harvesting, describe the exotic ways and customs of an Uzbek village, count off the difficulties that any expat would face in Moscow (and a moneyless Asian expat, in particular).

But then the conspiracy theory starts to crumble, as any critic would agree that such a cunning marketing strategy would surely have called for a much darker and gorier book. Bibish's story, on the contrary, is intrinsically optimistic. In fact, given the difficult circumstances of her life, her positive outlook is by far her most stunning device.

These days, we are faced with many new and unexpected things. In small Russian towns, for instance, sometimes the only places to eat serve Caucasian or Central Asian food. People from the former Soviet republics are flocking to Moscow -- the city with the jobs (legal or not). It's an absolutely normal post-colonial situation. But initially it is always painful for both sides.

At least, with Bibish's novel, one of these sides has found its voice. Why does Bibish speak in Russian, a language she doesn't even know very well? Well, because otherwise she wouldn't be heard, would she? And because our Soviet past is still here to haunt us.