Tag Archives: American English

No such thing as “American English”?

I received this afternoon the following email in response to my latest article for the BBC, “Why isn’t ‘American’ a language?”:

Sirs,

I am surprised by your article at BBC.com today. First of all, there is no country by the name of America. Secondly, if you wish to refer to Americans, you are including everyone who lives anywhere in North or South America. Here in Canada we have many English dialects, as they do in the U.S.A., but ours align with the British English usage. Yes, that U.S.A. stands for United States OF America, as it is a republic within North America. I am a Canadian who is also an American, as Canada is in North America.

Therefore your article is specious. There is no such language as “American English”. The habit of US citizens calling themselves ‘Americans’ is hubris at its finest. One well known example is the ‘World Series’ which is anything but.

However, you are entitled to your misguided views, as I am mine. {;-)

Gordon W. Sharpe

As you may expect, I did not agree with his line of reasoning. Here is the response I sent to him:

A good day to you, Mr. Sharpe. I have a few points to make in response to your email.

First of all: I am a Canadian. I was born here, I grew up here, and I am sitting in my residence in Toronto as I type this.

Second: In my world, a Canadian is not an American. Call me a North American. Every Canadian I know (I do not count you among my acquaintances) bristles at being taken for an American – we all grew up resenting the USA, just as you evidently did. You are, in fact, the very first actual Canadian I recall seeing insist that Canadians are “Americans” tout court; everyone else I recall who has said that has been from the USA or Europe. The word “American” by itself is well established as referring only to a citizen of that country to the south of us, and Canadians rarely want to be confused with them, as you demonstrate. The rest of us on this land mass are North Americans and South Americans.

Third: The short form for “United States of America,” established virtually from its inception and accepted around the world – and in Canada, among Canadians, as you cannot avoid hearing – is “America.” The globally accepted demonym is “Americans.” A few people have attempted to call citizens of the USA “USians,” but it has not caught on. Citizens of the Federated States of Micronesia are called Micronesians, even though the region Micronesia includes other countries; citizens of the Democratic Republic of the Congo are called Congolese, even though citizens of the Republic of the Congo are as well; citizens of the Republic of Ireland are called Irish, Northern Ireland notwithstanding; and so forth. Back when our country was the Dominion of Canada – I am sure you remember when it was stripped down to one word, in 1982 – we were nonetheless Canadians and our general standard dialect was Canadian English.

Fourth: I am a linguist with substantial education in dialects and variation, and I know quite well – and said so in the article – that there is considerable variation in American English. Notwithstanding that, American English as a whole is quite distinct from British English as a whole, and each of the two has a standard variety that is the basis of dictionaries, usage guides, and textbooks. I made reference to that in the article as well, but perhaps you didn’t finish reading it before you started typing.

Fifth: I make the larger part of my living as an editor and expert on Canadian English, and I must correct you on your belief that Canadian English aligns with British English usage. In fact, although we prefer certain British-style spellings, the larger part of our vocabulary hews to the American. We do not have boots and bonnets on our cars, or park the cars in carparks; we do not send unruly chavs to gaol or eat ices at the weekend; we recognize “centre” and “colour” but usually not “recognise”; our accents are closer to American accents – in fact, the non-Canadian accent closest to a standard Toronto accent is from California. I had originally intended to make mention of Canadian in the article, but the BBC has tight length limits, so that was one of a few things I trimmed out in the final draft.

I won’t argue with you about the hubris of “Word Series,” nor about American cultural self-centredness in general. But they were being called “Americans” well before they had their own country. As far as I’m concerned, they can keep it. Amerigo Vespucci was no one really worth commemorating so much anyway.

If you are wondering why I, a Canadian, wrote an article on American English for the British Broadcasting Corporation, it is because (a) they asked me to do so, (b) they paid me to do so, (c) I know the subject, and (d) I enjoy writing about it. Should Canadian English merit a mention? I’d like to think it is worth an article of its own. We shall see whether I can convince the BBC of that. 🙂

Thanks,

James Harbeck.

America’s liberties with English

My latest article for the BBC is about how American English came to be so different from British English – and why it didn’t come to be more different:

Why isn’t ‘American’ a language?

 

2050: The podcast

Remember that article I did on what American English will sound like in 2050? The one I had radio interviews about? We’ve made a podcast of it:

What Americans will sound like in 2050

 

The sound of 2050

The Week is doing a special series on the US in the year 2050. They asked me to write an article on what English will be like then. I obliged. Here it is, with illustrative videos:

What Americans will sound like in 2050

 

Mind your idioms

Originally published in Active Voice, the national magazine of the Editors’ Association of Canada

English has many quaint and curious phrases, clichés, and idioms, and we quite often see them misconstrued. Ours can be a very unforgiving game. You don’t have free reign to pawn off whatever one-of usages will tie you over, or do just any linguistic slight of hand (or vocal chords). No, you have to tow the line and stick to the straight and narrow, or your straight-laced readers will develop a deep-seeded dislike for you and give you short shift – they will wait with baited breath to see you get your just desserts and be hoisted on your own petard without further adieu, and the value of what you have to say will be a mute point.

Heh heh. Let me put that right:

You don’t have free rein to palm off whatever one-off usages will tide you over, or do just any linguistic sleight of hand (or vocal cords). No, you have to toe the line and stick to the strait and narrow, or your strait-laced readers will develop a deep-seated dislike for you and give you short shrift – they will wait with bated breath to see you get your just deserts and be hoist with your own petard without further ado, and the value of what you have to say will be a moot point.

Of course, that’s all well and good as long as we’re all playing the same game. But when we’re dealing with international audiences, the phrasing we use in hopes of striking a home run with our readers (or even just stealing a base) may seem to them to be not just cricket, and you won’t strike out – you will be dismissed.

We Canadian editors may be a bit smug about our position seemingly straddling the British-American fence. After all, we all know about our/or and re/er and ise/ize, and we may feel that, having mastered aluminium with an i and orientate with the ate and perhaps revise for study, estate agent for real estate agent, and some food terms – rocket (arugula), courgette (zucchini), marrow (summer squash), swede (rutabaga) – we can count on our intuitions with British.

But we run the risk of taking something for an error or typo when it’s really the correct British form. A bit over a decade ago, Orrin Hargraves came out with an excellent guide to British-American differences, Mighty Fine Words and Smashing Expressions; let me share with you some of the benefit of that smart volume: If you want to make a home from home in British English, and make a good job of it, don’t take the attitude of the know-all; know when to leave well alone if you want to cater for your readers and get on with them. Knowing your phrasal idioms can make the world of difference and give you a new lease of life – and if you don’t know them, you can rub your readers up the wrong way, and they might have a go at you and want to get shot of you. It will be more than a storm in a teacup; you will end up down at heel.

Which means, first of all, you will not render the above in a Canadian way: do not change it to home away from home, do a good job, know-it-all, leave well enough alone, cater to, get along with, make a world of difference, a new lease on life, rub your readers the wrong way, give you a tongue-lashing, get rid of you, tempest in a teacup, or down at the heels.

The best idea, of course, is to get a native British speaker – or, as occasion demands, an American speaker to add American idioms and weed out Canadianisms: don’t slip up and start talking about writing the odd test in pencil crayon, for instance (“Ohhhh, you mean taking the occasional test using a colored pencil! What was that other weird stuff you said?”). But at the very least, always look twice before crossing the idiom.