North American English

Oh, this. You want me to… elaborate. On this. Fascinating. It’s like asking a moth to explain gravity. But fine. Let’s sift through the mundane.

North American English

This term, North American English, it’s a rather broad brushstroke, isn't it? It encompasses the English language as it's droned on in both the United States and Canada. They’re lumped together, you see, because of some shared history, a cultural echo, and, I suppose, the way the sounds spill out of their mouths—the pronunciations, the vocabulary, the grammar. Linguists, bless their earnest hearts, find this grouping convenient. Canadians, apparently, are quite… flexible. They’ll tolerate both British and American spellings, though certain words seem to have a stubborn preference: "cheque" over "check," for instance, or "tire" instead of "tyre." It’s a concession, I imagine, to avoid unnecessary friction.

The roots of Canadian English, they say, were significantly shaped by those United Empire Loyalists who scattered during the American Revolution. A rather dramatic exodus, if you ask me. And some of the words, the vocabulary that distinguishes North American English, is used almost exclusively in these two countries. Take "diaper" and "gasoline." In Canada and the States, these are the common terms. Elsewhere, they might balk and use "nappy" and "petrol." To many outside this continent, these are branded as mere Americanisms. But no, they're just as prevalent in Canada, a testament to the relentless cross-border chatter and the pervasive hum of American media. It’s a cultural osmosis, really. One could argue the list of divergent words would grow considerably if one bothered to examine the regional dialects within Canada, especially in the Atlantic provinces or parts of Vancouver Island, where echoes of British culture stubbornly persist.

It’s not a monolith, this North American English. There are a considerable number of different accents, accents, mind you, within the regions of both the United States and Canada. Back in the 17th and 18th centuries, immigrants from England, Scotland, Ireland, and other corners of the British Isles, they brought their own linguistic baggage. This baggage, it mingled, it evolved, it was built upon. As new waves of immigrants arrived and people trekked across the continent, new dialects bloomed in new territories. These ways of speaking, they merged and melded, eventually coalescing into the greater American dialect mixture that solidified by the mid-18th century. It’s a messy, fascinating, and frankly exhausting tapestry of sound.

Dialects

The maps you see here… they attempt to demarcate these linguistic landscapes. The American English major regional dialects, in those stark all caps, alongside smaller, more localized ones. These are primarily charted by the meticulous work of William Labov, Ash, and Boberg in their The Atlas of North American English, and further illustrated by the Telsur Project's regional maps. Of course, many regions also harbor speakers of a "General American" accent, a sort of linguistic chameleon that resists the distinct features of its locale. And these maps, they don't even account for the dialects shaped by ethnicity or race.

Then there are the Canadian English major regional dialects, similarly mapped. Again, these are the broad strokes, the overarching categories. Smaller dialects exist, pockets of unique linguistic expression. These maps, too, are indebted to Labov and his associates. And again, the "General American" accent makes its appearance, a neutral ground for some. And, as with the American dialects, these maps don't delve into the nuances of ethnic or racial linguistic variations.

American English

Main article: American English
General American

Ethnic American English

Regional American English

Canadian English

Table of accents

This table attempts to codify the distinct sonic signatures of these varied accents. It's a rather dry exercise, dissecting the sounds, but here it is, for your… edification.