“Tengautuli Atkuk – The Flying Parka: Meaning and Production of Parkas in Southwest Alaska”

By Ann Fineup-Riordan, Alice Reardon, and Marie Meade; University of Washington Press, 2023; 320 pp.; $45.

Since time immemorial, the Yupiit people of southwest Alaska have lived in one of the harshest environments on earth, and the key to their success has been dressing appropriately for the elements. Perhaps no piece of clothing has proven more important than parkas. Wind-, rain-, and cold-resistant outer jackets allow their wearers to move freely through their world, staying warm and dry while living a lifestyle that sustains them at subsistence level to this day. These parkas were and continue to serve not just as clothing, but as living cultural elements that represent who the Yupiit are as a people.

“Parkas were not only beautiful, but also warm,” writes Ann Fineup-Riordan in the introduction to “Tengautuli Atkuk – The Flying Parka,” adding: “The parka was not only the symbol of a family, but also displayed their hunting and sewing skills for all to see.”

“The Flying Parka” is based on several meetings with Yup’ik elders who discussed the history, manufacture and use of parkas and provided personal memories and legends that enhance our understanding of their role in an ancient culture. The book is a collaborative effort between Fineup-Riordan, an anthropologist who has worked in Southwest Alaska for over 35 years, along with Alice Reardon and Marie Meade, who provided transcriptions and translations. However, Fineup-Riordan is keen to emphasize that the elders who shared their traditions and techniques are the true authors of the book.

In nearly 300 pages of text, readers gain a wealth of knowledge. Parkas not only reveal which family the wearer came from, but – as we learn from this detailed and richly illustrated study – were also tailored to the wearer’s origins in the wider community. They reflected the wearer’s people and place among the widely scattered population that inhabited this part of the world long before Europeans even knew it existed.

The book begins and ends with personal memories of the authors and with stories that have long been passed down orally among the peoples of the region, including the legend of “The Flying Parka,” which gives the book its name. In between there is an account of the purpose of the parkas, how they were made, and the different styles that arose depending on local resources and group cultures.

“A woman’s ability to sew was critical to her husband’s success and her family’s survival,” Fineup-Riordan explains in a chapter where she shows how young girls developed the skills needed to make a well-functioning parka. “Just as a man must master hunting skills before marrying, a girl could not become a wife until she had learned to sew.” As a woman, this girl’s skills would complement her husband’s ability to provide for his family on the land.

“Anyone who tries sewing from the beginning, even as a small child, is better at making things,” Elder Angela Hunt told Fineup-Riordan, adding that her granddaughter has tried to acquire knowledge of the art even at a time when parka-making is not as widespread as it was before the introduction of imported clothing.

As a young woman grows up and marries, she learns not only to sew parkas but to give them and other items meaning. Family motifs can be found on parkas, boots, tools, dishes, and more. Parkas can also have stories woven into the details of their appearance, in their furs and fabrics. Of modern parkas, however, Elder Elana Charles noted, “People used to not put too much decoration on them. Now some people overdo it.”

Fineup-Riordan takes us through the meetings she has held with the elders who share their knowledge here, and explains the process of making a parka and the materials needed to make it. Ground squirrels are one of the most common sources of skins used to make lining and fur. Caribou, wolves and seabirds also serve this purpose. Fish skins and marine mammal entrails are also used.

The process involves extensive treatment of the hides, which is done differently depending on the animal. Hides, especially bird hides, were chewed to remove the fat and then soaked in old urine to soften them and release their oils. “Urine was used by everyone here in Alaska,” explained Elder Neva Rivers. “They all used it to cure things, and it’s good for rancid (hides) too. They would leave the bowl (of old urine) all spring long.” We later learn that Dawn dish soap is now the preferred degreaser.

In the chapter on seal intestines, we learn that the intestines of seals, walruses and beluga whales were first cleaned, then inflated and laid out to dry before the parka was assembled. Rivers explained of the offal that would be discarded by less skilled and knowledgeable harvesters: “Now they have become a useful item, having once been useless intestine. How clever.”

Parkas made from fish skin were often found in areas where seals were less common. The skin was usually removed after the fish had been smoked, soaked in urine and then laid out to freeze-dry over the winter. They too were soft and pliable and offered good protection from the elements.

In 2012, several of the women whose stories make up much of the content of this book traveled to Washington, DC, to examine objects at the National Museum of the American Indian and the National Museum of Natural History. None of them had ever left Alaska before. They were given access to parkas dating to the late 19th century. It must have been a deeply emotional experience for them, carefully examining and discussing various parkas at length. The section includes many photos from the event, most of them by Fineup-Riordan.

The information the elders here provide is always fascinating. “Our lives are like the work we do,” Rivers told Fineup-Riordan. Those lives and their work form the backbone of The Flying Parka, a gift to Alaska that offers us a previously little-known cultural understanding of the place where we live.