Synopsis
Building a Mystery: The Story of Sarah McLachlan & Lilith Fair by Judith Fitzgerald is a deeply personal and often contentious biography that intertwines the life of Canadian singer-songwriter Sarah McLachlan with the revolutionary origins of the all-female music festival Lilith Fair, published in 1997 at the height of the festival's inaugural run. Fitzgerald, a poet, journalist, and music critic who was herself adopted, embarks on an obsessive quest to uncover McLachlan's roots, beginning with a sprawling opening chapter that blurs the lines between her subject's story and her own. Drawing parallels between her experiences of adoption and reunion with birth family, Fitzgerald details her relentless pursuit of McLachlan's biological mother, Dorla, in Halifax, and her interactions with McLachlan's adoptive parents, Jack and Dorothea, who plead with her not to portray their daughter harshly. This self-reflective narrative sets a tone of intimacy laced with intrusion, as Fitzgerald positions herself not just as biographer but as a fellow traveler in the emotional terrain of identity and abandonment, weaving in her childhood memories and journalistic triumphs, such as her role in advocating for back-to-back female artists on Toronto radio stations. The book, clocking in at around 231 pages with black-and-white photos and a bibliography, promises a celebration of McLachlan's contributions but often veers into speculative territory, prompting accusations of meanness and sensationalism from critics and fans alike.
At its core, the narrative traces McLachlan's improbable ascent from a classical music prodigy in Halifax—where she began piano lessons at age three and later rebelled against conservatory rigidity—to a global icon of introspective pop-folk. Fitzgerald chronicles McLachlan's early struggles in Vancouver's indie scene, her signing with Nettwerk Records under the guidance of manager Terry McBride, and the tumultuous creation of her breakthrough albums Touch (1988), Solace (1991), and Fumbling Towards Ecstasy (1993), which blended ethereal melodies with raw explorations of love, loss, and spirituality. The author dissects McLachlan's lyrics with poetic fervor, quoting passages from hits like "Building a Mystery" and "Hold On" to illuminate themes of vulnerability and resilience, while critiquing the music industry's exploitative underbelly, including McLachlan's battles with label executives who dismissed her as too "soft" or "feminine." Fitzgerald doesn't shy away from McLachlan's personal demons, delving into her turbulent relationship with drummer Ashwin Sood (whom she later married), her history of self-destructive behavior in her late teens and early twenties, and the morbid tragedy of her obsessed stalker Uwe Vandrei, whose 1994 suicide Fitzgerald speculates—controversially—was influenced by McLachlan's orbit, implying a dark entanglement that the singer and her team allegedly concealed. These elements, drawn from Fitzgerald's own interviews and archival sleuthing since she was denied direct access to McLachlan, paint a portrait of a woman forged in quiet rebellion, whose classical training clashed with the raw energy of her songwriting, ultimately birthing anthems that resonated with a generation of women navigating emotional labyrinths.
The latter half of the book pivots to Lilith Fair, the audacious all-women touring festival McLachlan co-founded in 1997 with producer Dan Fraser, a direct rebuke to the male-dominated rock circuit that relegated female artists to opening slots or outright exclusion. Fitzgerald recounts how McLachlan, fresh off headlining tours where promoters balked at booking two women in a row—"No one will come," they insisted—envisioned a space for solidarity, featuring a rotating lineup of talents like Sheryl Crow, Paula Cole, Jewel, Liz Phair, and Indigo Girls across village, main, and evening stages. The author celebrates the festival's philosophical underpinnings, named after the mythic first wife of Adam who symbolized female independence, and its role in amplifying voices from folk-rock to emerging R&B, grossing over $50 million in its first year and shattering attendance records. Yet, Fitzgerald's lens is unflinchingly critical, exposing logistical chaos, backstage egos, and the commercialization that threatened Lilith's grassroots ethos, while pondering its place in the burgeoning riot grrrl and alternative culture movements. She inserts herself again, claiming credit for early advocacy that paved the way for such programming, and muses on the festival's potential to dismantle patriarchal gatekeeping, even as she questions whether McLachlan's vision was truly altruistic or a savvy career move amid her rising fame.
Throughout, Fitzgerald's prose—dense, allusive, and occasionally labyrinthine—mirrors McLachlan's lyrical complexity but alienates many readers with its pretentious flourishes and unresolved tangents, from conspiracy-tinged asides about industry machinations to unverified innuendos about McLachlan's "fabricated" backstory. Reviewers have lambasted it as a "hit piece" masquerading as hagiography, noting factual sloppiness like misspellings on the spine and a lack of insider interviews with Lilith performers, while praising fleeting gems of early career trivia. For diehard fans, it offers rare glimpses into McLachlan's formative years and the festival's seismic impact on gender dynamics in music, but others decry its voyeuristic edge and Fitzgerald's apparent resentment toward her elusive subject. Ultimately, Building a Mystery stands as a flawed yet fervent testament to McLachlan's alchemy of pain into art and her bold bid to rewrite the rules of the road, capturing a fleeting moment when women headlined their own revolution—imperfect, intoxicating, and defiantly unapologetic.