In last week's PW, Sara Nelson devoted her column to book embargoes, airing her distaste for the practice of keeping a book confidential until publication. I'll be the first to admit that embargoes are sometimes over-used, and can be a pain in the neck for journalists, booksellers, and our own publicists and sales reps. But it's been my experience that, in general, embargoes do more good than harm for all parties—especially the reading public.

By now it's well known that two major books had their embargoes broken in consecutive weeks. First, the New York Times got its hands on an early copy of Bob Woodward's State of Denial, which had been embargoed by Simon & Schuster. Then the same thing happened with my imprint's current PW bestseller, Carly Fiorina's memoir Tough Choices. In our case, reporter John Markoff says he bought it at an airport bookstore, five days before our on-sale date, and wrote a prominent article for the next day's Times. A media firestorm immediately ensued and, not surprisingly, the two national media outlets that we planned to launch the book with (60 Minutes and Newsweek) were quite upset.

Simon & Schuster bowed to pressure to put the Woodward book on sale a few days early, while Portfolio kept Fiorina's on-sale date the following Monday, honoring our promise to 60 Minutes.

In the aftermath of these two incidents, embargo bashers are fed up. We have been told that requiring booksellers to promise not to sell a book before a specific date, and forcing media people to promise to keep a book confidential, is no longer feasible or appropriate. We've also been told that once an embargo is broken, publishers should recognize that it can't be fixed, and release journalists and booksellers from their nondisclosure agreements.

Most provocatively, critics like Ms. Nelson are saying that the whole concept of the embargo should be demoted—from a legitimate strategy for protecting a major news story to an example of mere spin control, unworthy of any respectable publisher.

It seems to me that these arguments miss the most salient point. Portfolio decided to embargo Tough Choices not primarily because the book contained hot news (which it did, for readers who care about business and technology), but because it was certain to trigger enormous debate and discussion as soon as any of its content became available.

We (and our author) thought this debate would be best served if everyone—reporters, editors, TV pundits, bloggers and the general public—started talking about the book at the same time. We didn't want potential readers to be subjected to endless commentary about a book they couldn't buy for days or weeks—or even months, had we distributed bound galleys. As Ms. Nelson acknowledges in her column, publishers want to prevent pre-pub spin based on partial information.

And yes, we also wanted our author to have at least one day of grace to present her viewpoint, before the 24/7 media universe weighed in.

What's wrong with setting up an exclusive interview with a major TV newsmagazine, and an excerpt with a major print magazine? We get high-profile exposure in exchange for a couple of days of exclusivity. Competing media may not like it, but this isn't a kindergarten classroom at snack time. Publishers have a right to say that publication X gets to see a hot book before publication Y.

In our case, nearly all booksellers abided by our embargo, even after the breach. And nearly all media people who signed a nondisclosure agreement honored it. The system isn't perfect, and it can be improved by stricter consequences for retailers and journalists who ignore their written agreements. But for a truly hot book, there's really not much choice.

Publishers should be highly selective, by all means, about which books we embargo. But let's not give up on the whole idea, and thereby subject readers to frustrating levels of media attention for books that can't be purchased.

Adrian Zackheim is the publisher of thePortfolio imprint at Penguin Group (USA), and the editor ofTough Choices.