Dear Bethesda: Why are Starfield’s books so short?

polygon.com:

In the world of big-budget video game developers, Bethesda Game Studios has the rare gift of consistency. Play one of its games and you know, more or less, what to expect from all of them: an expansive open world filled with every product a Staples and/or medieval Whole Foods ever sold, mannequin-like characters that will stiffly run through gunfire to ask you to deliver a magic cheese curd, and, most importantly, literature. Tons of books, letters, notes, and emails for you, the player, to read at your leisure, totally unbothered by whatever world-ending crisis you are ostensibly supposed to ward off.

I love all this writing. I love that there is so much of it, and I love that there is no discernable reason for the vast majority of it. Most of all, I love that the lion’s share of these books are fucking boring, with a few works spanning multiple volumes and over a dozen pages each about shit I will never care about in a million years.

This, to me, is a vital part of the appeal of Bethesda games. Even if I don’t care about the fictional exploits of Mehrunes Whoever, it is incredible to me that someone did, enough to write several hundred words that most people will probably ignore. They’re there because they should be. They’re there because Bethesda games are set in worlds where people read, and those worlds are made with the conviction that the player should be able to read many of those books — even the goddamn turgid histories that make me want to tear my eyes out. Maybe the characters of the Elder Scrolls games feel the same way about them!

All this is to ask: Where the fuck are the books in Starfield? What is this nonsense where you pick up a book — real neat that they’re still around in the future, by the way —