I've read A Stone for Danny Fisher several times over decades. When I was a kid growing up in Danny's Brooklyn I enjoyed the references to places and things and people I knew. I also enjoyed the sexy parts, though they were done more by inference and euphemism than the explicit language we're used to today. Still, any adult and most teenagers knew what was being described.
The book is narrated by Danny himself from beyond the grave, as it opens with his family gathered at his gravesite, and so there is no doubt as to his end, only how he got there. The stone in the title refers to the Jewish practice of placing a common stone atop the grave of someone departed, as a sort of way of registering that you have been there, and a sort of remembrance. Thus the stone of the title is the remembrance of Danny's life.
The book affected me greatly as a kid, because the happiness of Danny's childhood from the time his family moves into their new house in a new subdivision in East Flatbush when Danny was 8 to the time when his family lost the house and they moved to the Lower East Side at the age of 15 has always stuck with me as warning of how suddenly a happy and stable life can be shredded into despair.
Danny's beloved dog dies as soon as his family moves and his childhood dies along with it. From that point, Danny finds hate and love, and kindness and meanness. Plenty of meanness. He finds himself torn between loyalty and betrayal, his own and others, throughout the rest of the novel.
The characters are well drawn and vivid. Danny spends his short adult life dreaming of returning to the little Brooklyn house where he knew happiness, and he does. Almost. That quest, and its consequences, brings the novel very close to the "tragedy of a common man" that Miller attempted in "Death of a Salesman." I think Robbins was more successful.
I picked this up recently for the first time in several years because I wanted to re-read a particular section. I didn't want to re-read the whole thing, since it is, at heart, a disturbing and depressing story; but the story grabbed me again and compelled me to read it to the very end, rather like a violent event that you don't want to see, but you cannot look away. At the end, there were tears in my eyes. Once again.