The book starts with the arrival of an odd piece of junk mail at the author's home in the stouthearted Little Italy of South Philadelphia. He's been offered the complete directory of Tonellis in America, for only $27.95. That sparks a half-mad cross-country trek in a rental car, an expedition that reaches from Disney World to the Arctic Circle, from the beaches of L.A. to a prison in Iowa, all in search of people named Tonelli. He finds hundreds of them, living fantastically diverse lives: a Notre Dame football star/hero Tonelli, a Korean Tonelli, two prison inmate Tonellis, one retired nun Tonelli, a morning deejay Tonelli, a Native American Tonelli, a psychic Tonelli - the list goes on and on. None of them are related to him, but that's OK - he's looking for something larger than family. He's looking for a nation: The Tonelli Nation?

What Bill Tonelli discovers on the road, aside from the rough splendor of the country itself, are answers to the questions about his own place in America and that of every descendant of immigrants. He learns the truth about family values, the meaning of blood and memory, and two hundred and sixteen ways to make tomato sauce. He glimpses the cold, scary future of diminished kinship, diluted ethnically, and waning community. And he finds the answer to the biggest question of all: Why are we here?