I wouldn't call Annie Proulx's tantrum in the Guardian sour grapes, as she suggests. Sour grapes is when you get nothing, and the movie based on Proulx's novel snagged three Oscars (best director, best adapted screenplay, and achievement in musical score.) They weren't for best film, though, so out came the claws.
Having your book made into a movie, isn't that every writer's wet dream? Being nominated for multiple Oscars is beyond the realm of imagination. Winning three of them, God Almighty, there aren't even words. Who in their right mind would think that's not good enough?
Anyway, into the ABB file you go, Ms. Proulx. You might want to consider asking yourself some hard questions, too. Like "Is Jupiter still larger than my ego?" (thanks to Bill Peschel for the heads-up.)