The following books are recommended reading:

John Gottman: Ten Lessons to Transform Your Marriage

Laura Doyle: The Surrendedred Wife and The Empowered Wife. 

In The Surrendered Wife she make an allowance foir divorce, which I do not agree with, but otherwise it is well worth reading. The Emnpowred Wife is basically an updated version of her earier book First Kill all the Marriage Counsellors. (Based on a line from a Shakepearian play "First Kill all the Lawyers.") Her website is: www.LauraDoyle.org

Here is an extract from The Surrendered Wife:
WHY WOULD A WOMAN SURRENDER? When I was newly married at twenty-two, I had no idea I would ever call myself a surrendered wife. At that time, the very phrase would have repulsed me. I did know that marriage was risky because I had watched my parents go through a brutal divorce. Still, I was hopeful that I could do better. I was amazed that my husband, John, could love me as much as he did, and part of me believed we could make our marriage work simply because it was born of so much goodness. At first our marriage was blissful. Then, I started to see John's imperfections more glaringly, and I began correcting him. It was my way of helping him to improve. From my point of view, if he would just be more ambitious at work, more romantic at home, and clean up after himself, everything would be fine. I told him as much. He didn't respond well. And, it's no wonder. What I was really trying to do was control John. The harder I pushed, the more he resisted, and we both grew irritable and frustrated. While my intentions were good, I was clearly on the road to marital hell. In no time I was exhausted from trying to run my life and his. Even worse, I was becoming estranged from the man who had once made me so happy. Our marriage was in serious trouble and it had only been four years since we'd taken our vows. My loneliness was so acute I was willing to try anything to cure it. I went to therapy, where I learned that I often used control as a defense. I read John Gray's Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus, which gave me some understanding of the different ways men and women communicate and approach life. I talked to other women to find out what worked in their marriages. One friend told me she let her husband handle all of the finances, and what a relief that was for her. Another one told me she tried never to criticize her husband, no matter how much he seemed to deserve it. I decided I would try to follow in these women's footsteps as an "experiment" in my marriage. I desperately wanted to save the relationship, and I also hoped to rescue my selfrespect, which was fading with each episode of anger and frustration I unleashed on John. Little did I know that I was taking the first baby steps in surrendering and that doing so would renew our marital tranquility and my self-respect. Today I call myself a surrendered wife because when I stopped trying to control the way John did everything and started trusting him implicitly, I began to have the marriage I've always dreamed of. The same thing will happen to you if you follow the principles in this book. None of us feels good about ourselves when we're nagging, critical, or controlling. I certainly didn't. The tone of my voice alone would make me cringe with self-recrimination. Through surrendering, you will find the courage to gradually stop indulging in these unpleasant behaviors and replace them with dignified ones. You will also have more time and energy to focus on what's most important to you. Whether your desire is to have a more harmonious family, run a top corporation, or both, you'll feel increasing pride as you realize your goals faster than ever before. Surrendering has a way of bringing out the best in us, both as individuals and as wives, which is why it's so worth doing. There was no single moment when the surrendered lightbulb went off in my head. Instead, I changed little by little. I experimented, first by keeping my mouth shut--and sometimes even my eyes--when John drove. When we arrived in one piece, I decided that I would always trust him behind the wheel, no matter how strong my urge to control. Next, I stopped buying his clothes (yes, even his underwear), even though I worried that he wouldn't buy any for himself. (I was wrong.) I learned what not to do from making painful mistakes, like criticizing the way he maintained the cars, which made me feel like my mother when she was cranky and caused John to watch TV for four straight hours, avoiding me. I prayed for wisdom, and took more baby steps towards approaching the relationship without control. Slowly but surely, things started to change. As I stopped bossing him around, giving him advice, burying him in lists of chores to do, criticizing his ideas and taking over every situation as if he couldn't handle it, something magical happened. The union I dreamed of appeared. The man who wooed me was back. We were intimate again. Instead of keeping a running list of complaints about how childish and irresponsible he was, I felt genuine gratitude and affection for John. We were sharing our responsibilities without blame or resentment. Instead of bickering all the time, we were laughing together, holding hands, dancing in the kitchen, and enjoying an electrifying closeness that we hadn't had for years. For our ninth wedding anniversary, I changed my last name to match my husband's. "Now that I know him a little better, I figure I'll give it a shot," I joked to my friends. What I really meant was that I wanted to be intimate with John in a way that I never was before. I wanted to do something that symbolized my tremendous respect for him, and to acknowledge outwardly an inward shift. This was the natural development of a path I had started some time ago without realizing it. At first, I felt uneasy when I held my tongue instead of expressing my opinion about everything. Restraining myself from correcting my husband felt like trying about everything. Restraining myself from correcting my husband felt like trying to write with my left hand. Life had become awkward! But there were positive results. Over time, I formed new habits. When I slipped back into my old ways, I stopped to ask myself, "Which do I want more: to have control of every situation or to have an intimate marriage?" Naturally, emotional connection, lack of tension, dignity, having kindness, and being able to relax always trumped getting the chores done or having things my way all the time. To remind myself of my new priorities, I adopted the word "surrender" as my mantra, because it was shorter and more to the point than saying, "stop trying to control everything." I repeated "surrender" to myself silently over and over again. It's about following some basic principles that will help you change your habits and attitudes to restore intimacy to your marriage. It's about having a relationship that brings out the best in both of you, and growing together as spiritual beings. Surrendering is both gratifying and terrifying, but the results- peace, joy, and feeling good about yourself and your marriage-are proven. The basic principles of a surrendered wife are that she: • Relinquishes inappropriate control of her husband • Respects her husband's thinking • Receives his gifts graciously and expresses gratitude for him • Expresses what she wants • Relies on him to handle household finances • Focuses on her own self-care and fulfillment A surrendered wife is: • Vulnerable where she used to be a nag • Trusting where she used to be controlling • Respectful where she used to be demeaning • Grateful where she used to be dissatisfied • Has faith where she once had doubt A surrendered wife has abundance where she was once impoverished, and typically has more disposableincome and more satisfying, connected sex than she did before she surrendered. My sister, Hannah Childs, related the philosophy of the surrendered wife to her experience as a baliroom dance teacher. "In marriage she said, "as in ballroom dancing, one must lead and the other must follow. This is not to say that both roles are not equally important. It is rare that I find a woman who can resist "backleading." *I did everything he did,' Ginger Rogers once said about Fred Astaire. "And I did it backwards, and in high heels." Although Fred and Ginger were equally skilled and talented dancers, if they had both tried to lead (or follow), they would have been pulling each other in opposite directions. Quite simply, they would not be in sync, but rather would be tripping over each other and eventually pulling apart. Instead, Ginger let Fred lead her, trusting that he was making her look good and keeping her from harm. Instead of Fred diminishing her, Ginger allowed him to be the foil for her talent. I want my husband to bring out my very best, too. Just as fish are always the last to discover they are in the ocean, those of us who survive by trying to control things around us are often the last to recognize our behavior. We tell ourselves that we are trying to instruct, improve, help others, or do things efficiently--never that we are so afraid of the unpredictable that we do everything in our power to ensure a certain outcome. For instance, I thought I was merely making helpful suggestions when I told my husband that he should ask for a raise. When I urgently exclaimed that we should have turned right instead of left while riding in a friend's car who knew perfectly well how to get to our destination, I reasoned that I was trying to save time and avoid traffic. When I tried to convince my brother that he really should get some therapy, I justified butting into his life as wanting "to be there for him." All of these justifications were merely elaborate covers for my inability to trust others. If I had trusted that my husband was earning as much money as he could, I wouldn't have emasculated him by implying that I found him lacking ambition. If I had trusted my friend to get us to our destination in a reasonable time, I wouldn't have barked out orders about where to turn, leaving a cold frost on the inside of the car. If I had trusted my brother to make his own way in the world, he would've felt more inclined to continue to share the emotional milestones of his life with me. Trusting is magical because people tend to live up to our expectations. If you make it clear to your husband that you expect him to screw up at work, wreck the car, or neglect his health, you are setting a negative expectation. If on the car, or neglect his health, you are setting a negative expectation. If on the other hand, you expect him to succeed, he is much more likely to do just that. To trust someone means you put your full confidence in them, the way Robert Redford's character in the movie The Horse Whisperer trusted a teenager behind the wheel of his truck for the first time--by resting in the passenger seat with his hat over his eyes. Trusting someone means you anticipate the best outcome--not the worst--when he's in charge. When you trust, you don't need to doublecheck, make back-up plans or be vigilant because you're not expecting any danger. You can sleep with both eyes shut, knowing that everything's going to be fine. It bears repeating: When you trust, you are anticipating the best outcome. Those of us who have trouble trusting others when every rational indicator says that we are safe are reacting to our own fear. We may be afraid that we won't get what we need, or that we'll get it too late. We may fear that we'll spend too much money, or have to do extra work. It could be, and often is, that we fear loneliness, boredom, or discomfort. If you are like me and find yourself driven to correct, criticize, and conquer a partner, then you are reacting to your fears. Whatever the situation, if you do not react to your fear of the outcome, you don't need to try to dominate, manipulate, or control it. As it turns out, my fears were a conditioned response I had developed over the years to hide my own vulnerability- the soft underbelly that exposes me to both the greatest pain and the greatest pleasure. I hid my softness as much as I could because I believed it was unattractive. Ironically, the people I found most endearing and easiest to connect with had the ability to expose their real fears, joys, guilt, needs, and sadness. I was drawn to their openness and warmth. I found them engaging. When I was choosing to control over allowing myself to be vulnerable, I was doing so at the expense of intimacy. What I know now is that control and intimacy are opposites. If I want one, I can't have the other. Without being vulnerable, I can't have intimacy. Without intimacy, there can be no romance or emotional connection. When I am vulnerable with my husband, the intimacy, passion, and devotion seem to flow naturally. Today I try to relinquish control as much as I can and allow myself to be vulnerable. Unfortunately, I still don't do this perfectly, but it doesn't seem to matter. Just making intimacy my priority--rather than control--by practicing the principles described in this book, has transformed my marriage into a passionate, romantic union.