The very short books of the small plates, Jarom included, are often read as evidence of how seriously later record keepers took the physical limits of engraving on metal plates: each writer had to judge what was worth the labor of inscription, and a quiet generation earned only a few lines. Jarom's own text gestures at this constraint directly, since he explains his brevity as a deliberate choice rather than an oversight.
Taken together with Enos and Omni, Jarom's book shows the small plates narrowing from Nephi's extended visionary writing toward pure record keeping, a shift that sets up the eventual handoff, in Omni, to a record that is barely more than a list of names before the small plates run out of things to say and the larger history resumes with the discovery of Zarahemla.
The physical medium is part of why the compression matters: engraving metal plates was slow and the available surface finite, so a keeper such as Jarom, who judges his own generation uneventful, has a concrete reason beyond modesty to write only a handful of lines before passing the record on to the next hand.
Even a book this short carries the same soft-deletion logic the rest of the record depends on: nothing Jarom omits is treated within the tradition as lost or false, only as a choice about what a small stretch of engraved metal could afford to preserve for readers centuries away.