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His initials--BHL--sound like a deli sandwich, but Bernard-Henri Levy himself is not the kind of man to park his couturier-clad derriere on a snackbar stool. The only sandwiches France's most glamorous philosopher and writer likes to eat are like the ones he sent out for in 1975 when he launched an "alternative" daily newspaper, l'Imprevu (the Unforeseen), which folded after just 11 issues. The "sandwiches" were canapes from a 5-star restaurant, washed down with vintage champagne, and the bill came to $15,000.
Levy loves luxury. His world is one of chauffeur-driven limousines, exclusive hotels, designer clothes, and beautiful people. His trademark "uniform" is a white silk shirt, enticingly unbuttoned to show his manly chest. But behind the dark, smoldering glance lies an erudite, energetic, continually questioning mind.
From the very start, Levy has stood out from the crowd. Born in 1948, the cosseted son of a well-to-do Jewish industrialist, he attended all the right schools where...